


with or without you

by CarmenOnMonday



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Dialogue Heavy, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Baggage, Established Relationship, Everything Hurts, Flashbacks, Gen, Idiots in Love, Introspection, M/M, Miscommunication, Post-Break Up, Unresolved Emotional Tension, at least some of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 23:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20882084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmenOnMonday/pseuds/CarmenOnMonday
Summary: The short update posted on their Insta stories, a black background with an arrow pointing down, leads to a Youtube video. It’s a 45 minutes long recording, on a new channel without any followers and a blank profile photo.The video starts and it’s both of them, simply sitting in front of the camera, a clear distance carefully kept between their silhouettes. Their somber faces and weirdly dull eyes close the frame from both sides.--------------------Eric and Dele decide they need to deal with their past, and for once, be fully honest with themselves and their fans.





	with or without you

**Author's Note:**

> As creepily accurate as I'm trying to be here, this is still just fiction. Some issues covered here are inspired by real-life events though.  
The idea behind this was adapted from a video uploaded by a pair of Polish youtubers, but because I feel bad enough with using their story (and real names of people, as it is in RPF, so double trouble), I decided not to link it.  
This is heavily angsty, I'm sorry. Doesn't mean I believe in any rumours. I just can't control my inspiration.

The short update posted on their Insta stories, a black background with an arrow pointing down, leads to a Youtube video. It’s a 45 minutes long recording, on a new channel without any followers and a blank profile photo.

The video starts and it’s both of them, simply sitting in front of the camera, a clear distance carefully kept between their silhouettes. Their somber faces and weirdly dull eyes close the frame from both sides.

Dele, on the left, is unnaturally still; he looks to the side, only his profile caught by the camera. Eric stares straight ahead, like he’s fighting to show he’s ready to face the music, but the defeat is already written onto his features. His eyes are red all around as he blinks slowly, his forehead wrinkly.

“Um. Hello.” He clears his throat. “I know you- some of you were wondering about us. What’s between us.”

There’s no background music, no movement at all, no special effects. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

"We're not together, no."

Eric screws his eyes for a second and sighs, before the next words fall from his mouth, pulled from him like a painful groan.

“But we were.”

* * *

They lay together, lean their heads against each other, both of them sleepy and soft, and young, obviously young with their hair not styled yet, faces innocent.

The video is blurred and shaky, clearly taken with one hand. It’s dark and not properly focused, making it clear this is meant as a memory, only for them.

Eric is recording, the only one aware of the camera being on them, and he stares at it with a soft smile, like he wants to make sure they never forget this sweet moment. His ocean blue eyes glint with happiness.

Dele blinks one more time, purrs and then closes his eyes for good, finds a soft spot on Eric’s arm to hide into. Eric turns just a bit, just to be able to put a nuzzle and a kiss into Dele’s hair.

“Sweet dreams,” he mutters to the boy snuggling into his hoodie.

He smiles to the camera once again and then ends the video.

* * *

“This is not our scene. We won’t try to impersonate some Youtube stars. It might be painful to watch, you might fall asleep, or- or you might not agree with what we’re saying. You’re entitled to your own opinion. But we agreed that we want to tell you our side of the story, and if we’re doing this, then we’re doing it on our terms. We won’t sell our privacy to media. We won’t let others change the story or cut it short, when it’s- It’s our life. It’s not a plot. It’s our narrative, and you should hear it from us.”

The room they sit in doesn’t look extraordinary by any means, with a simple bed in the background and baby blue walls. Exhaustion screams from their faces, they are both wearing simple t-shirts, and they sit awkwardly, uncomfortable with the camera’s watchful eye on them. At a first glance, no one would be able to tell they’re someone more than regular twenty-something boys thrown into an unfamiliar situation. There’s nothing grandeur about them, not a single sign of their larger-than-life careers.

“Don’t worry, Eric here is a fan of indie films, I’ll make him edit this so it won’t be just our ugly faces speaking to you for an hour. We don’t want to bore you to death,” Dele adds what might have been a joke, but it falls flat. “But yes, if we’re telling you this, finally, then you’re getting a full picture, none of this media stuff. Funny thing, nobody knows we’re doing this. So you might be watching it and hearing the truth earlier than our distant family, our friends, and our boss. Once we finish and upload this, it’s a done deal.” Dele’s voice turns into a whisper. “It’s out.”

They’re both silent, taking it in.

“This isn’t like us,” Eric cuts through the silence. “I know. I’ve never thought we would be doing this, it took me a long time to see why- why we couldn’t go on without making this video. I guess you need to hear my explanation too... An explanation to the explanation. Great.” He shakes his head. “The fact is... We were together for years. But we broke up months ago, and while we- we’re okay with it, we moved on, we can’t close this thing when... when for everyone else, it’s still open. My family told me so many times not to go on the Internet, not to read all this stuff, but... It’s right there. We see your speculation, all the comments, questions. We can pretend it doesn’t touch us, but the truth is, when it’s thrown at us over and over again, when we still get asked about each other all the time, it...” He looks helplessly at Dele, waiting for him to take over.

“It hits a bit too close home,” Dele confesses. “Still. So. Maybe once you hear it from us, you’ll understand our perspective. I hope so. I don’t need you all to understand this, but... But maybe I do, a bit. And also, there’s this coming out bit which is long overdue.” Dele bites his lip and takes a slow breath in. When he opens his mouth, there’s determination burning in his eyes. “I’m bi.”

“And so am I,” Eric contributes after a pause and they share a loaded look and then quickly avert their eyes.

“We didn’t say it before because if one had said it, it would’ve surely influenced the other one as well, and at different times, one of us wasn’t in the right place to do it or the moment didn’t seem fitting... But even now, months after- after the end, if one us wanted to do it, you would still immediately go to this deledier shit and connect the dots and try to involve the other in it. We’re co-dependent, still, and I- I don’t like this. That’s why we needed to tell you together, and we needed to tell you the whole story.”

Dele looks for approval, and Eric nods absentmindedly. It doesn’t seem like it’s enough to calm Dele down.

“God, it’s awkward. Maybe we should’ve written that stupid statement after all,” he mutters.

“It was-“

“Yes, I know, it was my idea,” Dele cuts in and turns back to the camera. “Don’t trust everything that’s written. I wanted you to see us, the real us and the way we are. But this is going to be hard.”

Eric looks at him with concern.

“Together?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

“Diet. Diet, Diet, Diet. Diet,” Dele screams from behind the camera.

The footage shows Eric with a broom, sweeping the floor in the kitchen. His longer hair and pink shorts indicate it’s one of the older videos as well.

Initially, he seems invested in his task, but his growing smile indicates that he’s purposefully ignoring the shouts.

“Diet! Dier. Eric.”

He finally lifts his eyes from the floor, like he got what he wanted.

“Yes, the light of my life?”

“Will you sweep my floor forever?” Dele inquires with a pretended seriousness. “Will you be my housewife?”

“Only if you bring me pretty things and pamper me and my kids. Someone needs to provide for the boys.”

“I’ll buy you all the shiny things. And art! What do you say, art in exchange for your hand?”

Eric sweeps in the litter in Dele’s direction. “Deal!”

“Ew, Dieeeet!”

* * *

“Let’s start from the beginning. I – we – won't give you all the details. I’m still not sure how I feel about this emotional exhibitionism. We were good at protecting out privacy, and it needs to stay like this, at least to a certain point.”

Dele nods.

“No cutesy stories, no naked photos. Sorry. And please, don’t ask questions later. This is exactly the point. We’re doing this so the questions can be put to rest and so we can finally close it and forget, okay? If you support us, you should respect it. We’re uncovering a lot here already, please- please don’t make it worse.”

“This was actually one of the problems, right? Even from the beginning. The feeling that everyone wants a piece of something- something that’s not theirs to take made us so protective that whenever there was something bigger happening in our lives, we unconsciously wanted to hide it from daylight.” Eric puts his hand through his hair, getting a bit agitated. “I’m not even talking about us, just in general. I didn’t realise at the beginning just how unsafe I would feel being in the public eye. As soon as I joined the Spurs, there was constantly a camera put in my face, countless interview requests and journalists who didn’t know the line, photos on the way to the match, and after it, and- Even when it stayed professional, it was so much. I couldn’t look at social media for a while, at the beginning, I felt like the world got too see too much even without my contribution.”

“Yeah, I get that. I stayed on social media, but the stuff I put there... Mostly meaningless. What really mattered stayed for only me.”

“And maybe that’s why you all didn’t even notice when we got together. We were protective of our privacy since the day one. And we hit off almost immediately.”

A humourless chuckle escapes from Dele’s lips. “You know, maybe it would be interesting to see your guesses about when we got together, if I didn’t get this shit thrown at me all the time anyway.”

“Del.” There’s a warning in Eric’s voice.

“I know, I know. I’m not trying to say they’re to blame here, I’m not. There were just two people in this relationship that could make it go to shit,” he explains to Eric and then turns back to the camera. “But I wish you all knew how much it- how every word you write somewhere or say-” Dele shakes his head helplessly.

“Yeah. When my sister told me about the people following her Insta to stalk me, that was the first moment I realised how this career changes my life, and lives of those around.”

“We had some moments of realisation, yeah,” Dele says, his voice hard as steel.

“Okay, stop dancing around the issue. Let’s say it out loud. We got together in 2015,” Eric cuts in. “Months before you’ve seen any... Any indication. Already at this point, we knew we didn’t want to show that to people, and not only because of the obvious issue with our sexuality. Our privacy in general turned into the “non-existent” route, and it wasn’t... ideal.”

“But it was okay back then.” Dele’s face softens as his arms drop. “Everything was okay because we were happy in our little bubble. The entire world disappeared.”

The atmosphere changes a bit, from tense awkwardness to sad acceptance.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Eric smiles slightly under his furrowed brows. “You all already know how this ends. We started from the end, so you know there was a lot of complication on the way, and we wanted to talk about them, but... We were happy.” He softens too, overcome with emotion. “It bothers me too, to give you this image of everything that went wrong and skip the good part altogether. We won’t talk about it, but... It wasn’t a hardship, okay. As, as sickly sweet as it sounds, it was the easiest thing in the world, getting together. When we were just two men who have found each other, being together was enough. All this shit with sexuality, and the club, and the public... I didn’t think about it even once in the first months.”

Dele looks at Eric and his smile becomes gentler, dreamier, when he starts explaining his perspective.

“We were new to the business, and it was still somehow fresh and unbelievable that professional players in the clubs weren’t some distant stars anymore but our mates. And us. One change followed another, and it all felt equally natural. Who says it was somehow weird for a footballer to have a boyfriend, when the footballer was me? If I walked the corridors of White Hart Lane in my old sneakers I wore in the middle school, and if I was the one asked for the photo even though I forgot to brush my hair, if all that was acceptable for a footballer because I was granted the role of one, why should it matter that I also had a boyfriend?”

Eric observes him thoughtfully, clearly impressed with the logic. He nods.

“It sounds all that smart now, but back then, we just followed our guts. We stayed out from everyone’s sight because it was new and ours, but we didn’t actively hide. We just followed our intuition, and happily, we somehow shared the same approach.”

Dele clearly weights his words before he opens his mouth again, but he decides to do it. “It was... It was the happiest that I’d ever been.”

“...me too.” Eric clears his throat. “So yeah, this is important. It wasn’t always complicated. It was good.“

* * *

They’re both in the shoot this time, sitting opposite from each other and staring intently at the other one. Between them, there’s a Jenga tower build of pieces, dangerously unstable, and Dele’s slowly moving his hand in its direction. His stare doesn’t leave his opponent though.

A loud laugh rings from behind the camera. “Oh god, I feel dirty just from watching them play the damn game,” someone comments.

Another person shushes him. “They’re soo cute. Look. I’ll have the bribing material for years,” a girl whispers.

“Frank!”

“Shhh. Look.”

The camera doesn’t leave the boys. Dele’s hand is already on a piece he plans to remove, but then Eric winks, Dele’s composure falls, and with it, the Jenga tower.

“Not fair! You cheater! How-“

The video cuts before Eric fully leans to shut down Dele’s complains.

* * *

“We’re not here to complain. We want closure. We want to move on and, and to be free to learn how to be friends again, without any expectation put on us without our permission,” Dele explains, his words careful, like he practiced this reasoning before.

Eric seems restless though, ready to do something more, say something important.

“Yeah, but also... It’s over for us, but it might not be over for others. We are both quite lucky with the support system and with the environment. We were in a good place to come out, but we decided not to. I’m not proud of it.”

The confession feels heavy. Dele’s hand jumps where he has it on the table, but it doesn’t move in the end.

“Eric-“

He ignores the cut-in. “But now it’s over, and I don’t want- I don’t want others to go through the same thing. I’m not some role model, I’m the furthest from one. There’re so many egoistical reasons here as well, but if I can somehow help others in the community, I want to. I want this to have some positive outcome.”

The passion he feels for the case is obvious in the way he speaks, proudly and without any doubt.

“Eric was always so brave. He would’ve come out immediately-“

“Del, stop.” He looks at him seriously. “I didn’t. We didn’t. We had our reasons. But we’re doing this now. Maybe it’s something.”

* * *

“Dele! Can I please get an interview? For our evening show? Pretty please?” It’s Eric’s mocking voice that asks this question, and Dele plays along, turns around with a flourish and takes a few steps back from where he was going to the kitchen.

“Our teenage audience wants to know... Is there someone in your life? A second half? Has someone stolen your heart? Some lucky girl?” It’s still a game they play, and Eric laughs at Dele’s glare at that question.

“I’ll have you know that yes, there is someone. A very lucky boy. Should probably spoil me rotten as a thank you I’ve ever look at him,” Dele snaps, but then he looks up from the camera, at the person behind it, and his voice changes. “Can you imagine? Saying it just like that?”

“Well, you know-“

Dele is apologetic when he starts explaining himself. “No. I’m sorry. Not yet, Eric. I can’t- But maybe one day.”

“Shhh, I don’t need it, it’s okay-“

The camera is dropped and only blackness follows, but the sounds in the background give a pretty good idea of what followed.

* * *

“I said we got together in 2015... We didn’t really put any labels on it at first. But we were close and we were happy. We were just two boys who fell in love. As much as screaming from the rooftops might seem enticing, back then, we were just glad to have found each other. And we unconsciously protected ourselves. But that doesn’t mean we stayed apart.”

Dele chuckles under his breath.

“I would hate it if we put any- any restrictions about what’s acceptable and not acceptable. We were just good at balancing it, without any agreed rules.”

“My dad always says that you don’t bring your personal life to work. I tried to follow this advice. We stuck together nevertheless.” Eric shrugs “I just enjoyed his company. Simple as that.”

“...yeah. You were my best friend as much as you were my boyfriend.” Dele shakes his head. “It’s still weird saying it out loud. Ironic that now we’re allowed, when it’s in the past tense already. Fucking unfair.”

“I know. I said we more times today than in the entire time we’ve been together,” Eric adds bitterly. “See, at this point, we’re frustrated about the situation. We weren’t initially. We stayed close to each other, and at work, we were close friends. We were too good at being friends, I guess.”

“Can one be too good at being friends? If so, maybe we should’ve been better at being boyfriends.” Dele snaps.

“Del.”

“Cut this out if you want! But this is supposed to be real. We can’t walk on eggshells. We were too good at being friends, not good enough at being partners, and now we’re here.”

“Okay. Fair.” Eric sighs and rubs his eyes. “We’ll tell the whole story, no cutting out uncomfortable parts. You noticed our friendship. The club did as well. Turns out it looked great in promotional materials, so they asked us for more. Just innocent things, playing a game together, giving an interview. I don’t blame them, it’s good to show team spirit, they just... They just blindly found the gold mine.”

“Yeah, whoever came up with the idea of advertising our friendship should go play in the lottery.” Dele’s irritation is obvious from his dead stare, and the way he clenches his teeth.

“I- I was the one who convinced Dele it was going to be okay. I mean, what’s wrong in doing some media duty for the club? It’s not like we had to suddenly become more cautious of our actions. We weren’t affectionate in public anyway.”

“Yeah, that was stupid.”

“It was.”

“We did it to ourselves...”

“Stop. No blaming. We were over this.”

“I accepted it, but I’m allowed to say we were idiots. Cause we agreed, of course. You all know we did, you’ve seen how it all became larger than us. I liked the attention at first, that’s the worst. I didn’t see anything wrong with letting people see we’re close friends.”

* * *

The video is recorded from behind the big camera.

Eric, in the full kit, is giving the interview. He’s talking about Dele at the moment, about his goal and involvement in the game.

“...so yeah, we knew he could turn the game around.” He nods. “Dele is a young, very talented boy, he’s got a big future ahead, just-“

Eric talks for a few more seconds before he notices Dele’s recording him. He stops, distracted, and throws him startled look, his cheeks getting more and more flushed.

“...Eric? Would you like to comment on the other goal?” the interviewer asks, and Eric blinks, focuses on him once more.

Dele chuckles lightly and whispers “love you, too” into his phone before the video ends.

* * *

“We should be glad the club asked us to promote our friendship, it should’ve been a perfect cover up story, but it messed with our heads.”

Dele fingers are hidden into his sleeves, which he keeps tugging on, making them look like they’re too long for him. “The longer we stayed together, the harder it got to differentiate between private life and work. We spent time together at home, and we touched each other constantly, we-“

“We were just like any other couple. At least we wanted to be.” Eric’s voice is getting rough from the constant talking, it doesn’t stop him tough. “And then at work, we had to stay apart. In a natural growing in our relationship, we got more attached to each other, but then we realised we weren’t allowed to take next steps together because we were just friends – best friends, actually, who were always under the public scrutiny. We weren’t hiding officially, but look at that, we actually were, and at this point, it felt as if... As if the decision was made for us. We were trapped. Such good mates, look at that.” Eric laughs bitterly.

* * *

“Dele?” Eric asks, the selfie camera recording his face from a weird angle. He seems proud of himself for some reason. Threes in the background and happy barking from the dogs indicate they’re by the forest or at some park.

“Hm?” Comes an answer from a right side.

In a swift move, Eric leans into Dele’s space, camera following his move, and presses a chaste kiss on Dele’s disgruntled face.

“Eric! There are people out there, what are you-“

The video cuts.

* * *

“We couldn’t just say “hey, no, we’re not friends” when people were so enraptured by a sight of healthy male friendship. It would undermine the existence of such, and... “ Eric shakes his head. “Hah, see, I’m making excuses. Maybe we just didn’t have the guts to face the music. Maybe we were comfortable with it only in our imagination.”

“It got bigger than us, and we didn’t even notice when. Suddenly, everyone screamed at us about deledier, that was all we were ever asked about. I didn’t think about changing the approach, I just did the same thing we’ve done before and hoped for the best. But we were changing as people, and it became a bother. Something it was never supposed to be. If I noticed at the moment, if-“ Dele winces.

“We were too caught up in our own heads. And... Dele is being generous now, he gives me an out, but there’s one more thing to say here. “ Eric closes his eyes before he speaks again, and when he opens them, they look even more guilty. “I’m not envious in nature, but... Dele’s career rocketed while mine just crawled. There were interviews in which all I was asked about was Dele. That was the first time I got tired of it all.”

“Eric-“

“Shh. I want to talk about this too. Dele’s a football star. I’m good, I know I am and I don’t need much reassurance, and yet- This was so stupid of me, but I let it get to me, how sometimes questions about Dele dominated interviews I was giving. To everyone’s knowledge, we were just friends, and yet, it was deemed acceptable to ask us about each other and not about football. If we were to tell the truth- What would happen then? Would we even be look at like separate people, as athletes? I had my own career to look after too. It started to look irrelevant. I’m not proud of my reaction, but it made me mad at the situation, it made me snap.”

Light coming from the window behind the camera lies on Dele’s face, and he scrunches it, uses the opportunity to hide in his hands.

“That was the first time we started to fight. Really badly. And then we tried to fix it by being even closer to each other on social media, hiding behind the official requests from the club.”

* * *

A few seconds clip from their Roommates video flashes through the screen. It’s both of them, laughing furiously at something. Their laugh rings in the air, and they look like they’re having fun, the light atmosphere almost tangible.

Until the spell is broken and their smiles slowly, slowly drop as they calm down.

The video is paused at the moment when Eric peers at Dele, and his gaze is thoughtful, wistful, too serious for the circumstances.

Eric has a heartbreak written onto his face, but it’s hidden in between loud laughs.

* * *

“Funny how at our worst, we seemed as if we were at our best.” There’s not a one positive note in Dele’s voice.

“Just because we did our best to give you the perfect image of two football bros having a time of their life together. And we had the time of our lives previously, but being aware of someone watching us at all times stole the authenticity out of that. So we tried even harder. We played our parts without being able to tell the truth from the lies anymore. And it only fuelled speculation and even more media attention fell on us, it didn’t help our situation.”

“You know, maybe it’s wrong, but it brought me satisfaction when I noticed how you perceived what we allowed you to see. You were reading it all wrong and it gave me some safety. Only this, though, cause other than that... I didn’t know what was allowed, what was for us, and what was for cameras.”

“Yeah. At some point, I was always looking behind my back. In every situation, I had to apply the right approach – being too close would be too suspicious, being too far would be even worse. I hated it when I realised that at some point I were staying closer to Dele just to put up the illusion. In front of teammates, in front of fans, always, always on our toes... Remember the handholding?”

Dele’s entire body flinches, but Eric continues his reminiscing.

“This was this one time I told myself fuck it, I’m following my heart. And Dele laughed at it, thinking it was a part of the game. You all loved it, didn’t you?”

Dele rubs his eyes. “We were shitty at communication. It seems easy now, months, years after, once we had time to talk it through and reflect. Back then, it only added to the mess of unsolved issues. We used to understand each other perfectly and suddenly, it all just fell apart and where one saw just us, what we had, the other was only putting up pretences.” In a sudden decision, he turns to face his companion and talks more desperately. “Eric, I’m-”

“I know!” Eric cuts in. “We talked about this. I know.”

Dele clears his throat and continues his monologue to the camera. “We tell this story as if it wasn’t us who lived it and messed it all up. It was. We made it all too complicated, we couldn’t stop, we couldn’t talk. We got confused about the situation, but didn’t fight hard enough to make it better.”

“It was a one step forward and two steps back situation. At home, we were these completely different people, at work, we went crazy about our every gesture, trying to do exactly what would be expected from us. Idiots. Nobody asked for it! We did it anyway. And we spent awfully lot of time at work, you know. Much more than at home. At some point I thought I was going crazy, but I thought... I thought I was the only one,” Eric ends in a whisper.

“Every gesture got a meaning. Nothing was true, if it happened in public, and it got exhausting cause we didn’t even know if we were on the same page. Eric put an arm around me, and my first thought was “where is the photographer?” and then on the way to the car I slipped and tried to hug him, but I couldn’t because I expected someone would see and realise... I think. I think I was a bit more paranoid, but also a bit better at pretending it doesn’t touch me, even in front of Eric. That’s why he thought he was alone with it, and adding to that media’s attention on me-”

“I couldn’t understand him. And yet I did the same. We were together, but really apart, and no amount of time spent together alone could cover all these unpleasant feelings. If we had talked-“

“Yeah, look at us communicating now. I’m scared to think what would happen if we actually talked back then.”

“We fought a lot about some meaningless stuff because we both felt hurt, but we never learned to solve problems together, we didn’t have to, we used to understand each other. But these expectations put on us, and us both trying to joggle this and our careers... It got harder and harder to actually reach the other person.”

* * *

It’s the video that was circulating on the Internet before.

Eric, in a purple training kit, sits on a bench in the Spurs locker room. Snapchat filter puts a colourful frame all around his face, and it contrasts harshly with his angry features. He stares at the camera with a challenge etched onto his face. He rolls his eyes, and continues to ignore that he’s being recorded. In a few added seconds, which were apparently cut of the video before it was posted, he raises from the bench and walks out of the room, slamming the door shut.

The hand holding the phone falters, and the video ends with dirty floor filling the last frame.

* * *

“Time went on, and we were balancing on the edge of insanity. If it was so good at home, why was it so bad elsewhere? I had no idea one could feel both as badly and as good around one person.“ Eric worries his lower lip in between his teeth. “We couldn’t even decide what to do with our friends at the club. They found out, but only much much later, after one of our arguments, when we decided enough is enough and chose to deal with at least one mess.”

Throughout the video, Dele’s face continues to fall, and at this point, he looks completely done, a weight of the world on his shoulders. “We were this way for so long I kind of accepted it as a new reality, but... But I was miserable. I just couldn’t show it in front of others, and I didn’t want to mess up these few okayish moments we could catch at home, from time to time.”

“Yeah, only from time to time. At this point, we were awkward around each other even at home. The only break we got was at England camp.”

The thought puts a barely there smile on both of their faces.

“God it was so good. Nobody expected anything from us there. I think- I think at that time, only there we were truly ourselves.”

“England camp showed us we still could be okay. Funny how much a change in the environment can influence people. I wanted this, I wanted silly fun with him, playing football together for the joy of it, staying together because we wanted, not because someone told us to... In some way, international breaks were our escape. You know, I wasn’t aware we even needed escape, we got so deep into our farce. But after the World Cup, I knew we were done with how we behaved before.”

Dele shakes his head. “Eric. The Googlebox.”

“Ah. I forgot. Yes, our downfall. I swear to you, I blanked then. I wanted- I wanted us to be normal, to act naturally, to feel comfortable-“

“We both wanted it a bit too much. We used this opportunity to once more pretend we’re okay, this time just for us. We both strived for some comfort. We uncovered too much, and still both thought the other one was just playing.”

“I went home then, and couldn’t sleep the whole night. Couldn’t believe our life turned into this. I had sworn to myself I would never hide or lie to people, and here we were, unable to tell lies from reality. So I was done pretending. No more staying close for camera. I thought it would help us find each other again. It was supposed to help.”

“I- We didn’t exactly discuss it at the time, so I wasn’t sure what was the plan. But I agreed, of course. I would agree to anything if it would make Eric like me again.”

“Dele.”

“Shh. I’m just honest.”

“I never stopped-“

“I know now. But that’s how I felt.”

Eric looks at him helplessly. Dele pointedly ignores his burning stare and continues with the story.

“And surprise surprise, you noticed. And you asked, and you drilled, you couldn’t freaking stop. Everywhere I turned, I saw comments about us. Did you fall out? Did you fight? It didn’t help the sick feeling I got that... That we were going separate roads.”

* * *

Kyle is recording a live footage for his Instagram. Next to him, Dele is stretching like a cat, his eyes blinking lazily.

Comments flood the screen.

“Where’s Eric???”

“deledier is dead, find me dead as well”

“nooooo don't tell me you broke up"

“i told you deledier is done”

“WHERE HAVE YOU LOST ERIC?”

“my boys don’t love each other anymore, fuuuck”

Dele peers at the phone, and then, in a movement not expected from someone who was just getting comfortable on his seat, gets up and leaves.

* * *

“We had a tough season, both of us,” Dele whispers. “We both got sick, and we weren’t able to help each other. We were both too hurting, both too unhappy. It was a terrible combination.”

“Maybe we were already done at this point and just tried to resuscitate the dead. I- I don’t know. I thought it would help if I cut down the fake part of our relationship, but it was like cutting down the lifeline. We didn’t spend any time together, one of us always injured. We had to face the truth.”

Dele is staring down again, his posture screaming resignation.

“The truth was, we let our relationship go rotten in front of our eyes. Even then, we didn’t talk. We just fought, with no care for the other one. Eric ended up in the hospital, and I just screamed at him for being reckless. It wasn’t my finest moment.”

“And then Dele tried so hard to get better that his injury got even worse, and I used it to get back at him. We were both in a very bad place. We couldn’t keep doing it to each other.”

“It had to end,” Dele mutters.

“So... So we entered 2019 as... As teammates. Not even friends anymore.”

* * *

It’s a blurred video, with a loud counting down ringing in air, making the speakers crack.

“Ten... nine... eight...”

The camera is focused on two hugging girls. They look similar to each other, the same blue eyes blinking at the camera from two smiling faces.

It’s not what catches the attention though. In the background there are similar silhouettes, standing opposite to each other. Two familiar boys, recognizable even in the darkness of the room flashed by colourful lights from time to time.

They stand in a distance from each other.

“Seven... Six... Five...”

Eric says something, and Dele shakes his head furiously in answer, the argument clear just from their body language.

“Four... three... two... one...”

The girls scream happily and fall into each other’s arms. Couples all around start a new year from a kiss. Eric and Dele still stare at each other, silent.

“Happy new year!”

Dele leaves the room hastily. Eric stares after him, heartbreak written on his face. He raises his hands to his face and rubs his eyes.

Daisy and Steph send a kiss into a camera and the recording ends.

* * *

“...so. that’s it. That’s what happened.” Eric concludes. If before his eyes were red, now they’re also swollen and wet. He’s a wreck, and the room still looks the same, they are both the same people they were before they told their story. But maybe they’re not.

“Maybe it’s for the best. We- we can try to be friends again now. We can try to manage our private and professional lives. We’re getting better at it,” Dele says. “What you see, or don’t see now, is just us. We need- I need this to work. Maybe we couldn’t be boyfriends, but I need us to be friends. I can’t imagine not- I just want my best friend back.” He looks lost, vulnerable and open, striving, striving for someone who knew his every secret, who had his back, no matter what.

When Eric speaks now, he sounds like he’s on a verge of breaking.

“We showed you this because this is behind us. We’re relearning to be friends, but we can’t close the past if you won’t let us. So now you know. And now we can ask you to be respectful. Not only that; we can ask others, like us, to be careful. Don’t lose what you have. It’s not worth it. If you love someone- take care of what you have.”

Dele closes his eyes.

“We showed more than we wanted, but... Eric is right, maybe it helps someone else.”

They’re both quiet for a while, lost in their thought. They sit there together, but it’s clear they’re both in their own worlds, the distance between them now even more pronounced.

“Nobody ever had asked directly, in a conversation, even in an interview. Sometimes I wished they had. Maybe I would tell them,” Dele whispers.

“Would you?” Eric seems surprised.

“Maybe. Now that I think about it-“ Dele closes his eyes. “Nah, I wouldn’t. But it would make it all so much easier.”

“Dele, I-“

“I know, Eric, I know.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Hiding?” Dele raises his brow. “I used to. But no. Eric, it was great at the beginning. It was only ours. ”

Eric smiles but his smile drops quickly.

“It was. And maybe it was us who let it die.”

* * *

A sequence of videos starts with them both laughing at some joke told by Dele’s brother, the force of their laughter making them fall into each other and then fully onto the floor they were sitting on. It changes into a few early glimpses from trainings, when they run after each other and keep pushing each other playfully. Then, it’s a video from what looks like a wedding, they both in their best suits standing in a second row of the audience. Every video that follows is a private one – smiley drunk faces talking nonsense at some party, sleeping Eric in the car, sleeping Dele on the couch in the cinema room. In each of these glimpses they get a bit older, a bit more serious.

Then some glimpses from hotel room, Russian sweets spilled between them on the bed, Eric peering at Dele with some sad fondness. Eric in the bed, dark circles under his eyes, looking at Dele who is standing by the window. A Christmas party at Hickfords, where everybody smiles, but the boys pointedly don’t look at each other.

And then blackness.

* * *

“But it’s good that we recorded this, right?” Eric asks in a small voice, still sitting in the same chair.

When the camera catches focus again, a tear escaping his eyes glints in the light. He look helplessly straight ahead, like he’s afraid of seeing Dele’s reaction.

Dele has one of his legs bend in the knee and on the chair, his cheek on the knee, and his stricken face turned to left, away from his companion.

“Yeah. Don’t cut anything out. I want them to know.”

The silence that follows is louder than any words. All is said and done. This is the end.

Finally, Dele turns to take a peek at Eric. His eyes fall on Eric’s unsurely reached out hand, his shaking pinky finger which he’s extending like some peace offering.

Slowly, Dele hooks it on his own finger.

And then, in small, barely there movements, Eric’s fingers start to tangle into Dele’s. With a final halt, he grips Dele’s hand tightly, the gesture full of emotion.

They sit like this for a few more second, both lost in thought, now that everything is out, open, vulnerable in front of the world, but in the end, not famous footballers, just two boys who were once in love.

Two boys with their hearts on their sleeves, holding hands in public for what might be the first time that counts.

The video ends with a black background and a few opening tacts of a familiar song.

_Don't, don't play with her don't be dishonest_  
_Aye, still not understanding this logic_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry.  
Never underestimate the power of feedback, please take care of your local fanfic writer.  
(...a sequel? a big maybe.)  
I can be also found on [tumblr](http://www.dieretmoi.tumblr.com).


End file.
